


everyone blooms

by poselikeateam



Series: In Sickness & In Flames [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Fae, Changelings, Fae & Fairies, Fae Jaskier | Dandelion, Fae Magic, Feelings Realization, Gen, Hurt Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg Friendship, Jaskier | Dandelion Being a Little Shit, Jaskier | Dandelion Being an Idiot, Jaskier | Dandelion Has ADHD, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, POV Jaskier | Dandelion, POV Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Pre-Relationship, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Songfic, eventual Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:34:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26218714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poselikeateam/pseuds/poselikeateam
Summary: Jaskier has just made amends with Geralt, and is anxiously awaiting the arrival of the witcher and his Child Surprise where they'd agreed to meet. While he waits, he sees Yennefer, and through very little fault of his own (it's entirely his fault) she turns into a child. If he's lucky, he can figure out how to fix this before Geralt comes by.[Songfic for 'everyone blooms' by The Front Bottoms]
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: In Sickness & In Flames [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1904119
Comments: 23
Kudos: 152





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try to make the new TFB album into a songfic series. The series will be in track order, but not chronological order. I'm having more fun with fae Jaskier than I thought I would. The part with the actual lyrics will come in around chapter 3.

Jaskier’s favourite saying has always been _I may be dumb, but I’m not stupid!_

It fits. He’s an intelligent man, but… well, his mother always said he had too much intelligence and not enough wisdom. 

See, here’s the problem: shortly after meeting Geralt again, they have to part, because the big idiot finally decided to own up to his responsibilities and go find his Child Surprise. Good for him! Jaskier had been more than ready to go along with him, but of course Geralt is insisting he go alone.

And honestly, at first he’s a little put off by it. After all, Geralt knows his true nature now, more or less. He should know that Jaskier can handle himself, because he’s _not_ some squishy little human. The fae are powerful, and he would have thought that the witcher would stop underestimating him by now.

There are different types of fae, of course, and some are, simply put, woefully underestimated. Jaskier, as a pixie, knows this better than most. People hear _pixie_ and they think of little winged children, no bigger than one’s thumb, flitting about and causing small mischief. Gods forbid they ever meet a pixie from the Winter Court, he thinks. A pixie can be just as vicious as, say, a Red Cap — perhaps worse, as at least a Red Cap’s victims die quickly, their murder and consumption being the end-game. A malevolent pixie, on the other hand, will make their victims wish for death long before it comes. They rarely kill, but killing is far from the worst thing a monster can do.

Make no mistake: a number of the fae fall into the _monster_ category very well. There’s an overlap, a sort of Venn diagram between the two. Witchers hunt certain fae because they’re monsters, which is part of why he’d never confessed what he is to _his_ witcher. Because, while he is something of a _monsters’ advocate_ amongst those of his guild, he _does_ have certain prejudices. It’s only natural. Finding out that Jaskier isn’t human could have been a last straw for him, just the one thing about the bard that he finally couldn’t handle. 

So, after being cast aside by his witcher, Jaskier decided there was really no better time to risk losing his friendship forever. He didn’t make a big deal out of it because it’s _not_ a big deal. It’s just what he _is_. And, to his credit, Geralt took it very well. 

But he still won’t let Jaskier come with him.

And that brings him back to his old insecurities: _does he not take me seriously because of what I am?_

It turns out that that’s not the case, and Jaskier really needs to give his witcher more credit. It isn’t about what he is or isn’t at all. The witcher simply wants to get in and out, and it’ll be far easier for him to sneak about (and run from Calanthe, if and when it comes to that) if it’s just him (and a princess, but who’s counting?). And that, well, that’s the kind of logic that Jaskier can’t really argue with, because it makes sense, and he’s just glad it’s not about him specifically. 

They agree to meet up in a few weeks’ time up north, closer to Kaer Morhen. Jaskier makes his way there, and for the first day or two it’s fine. He worries, of course, and he misses Geralt, but he’s also still a little sore about the terrible fallout they had and appreciates the time apart. His plan is to stick around, make as little trouble as possible (really, he means it this time!), and wait for Geralt and his Child Surprise to get here. Shouldn’t be more than a month, and if it is even a _day_ later Jaskier is going to tear Cintra apart himself until he has his hands on the both of them.

Okay, he’s more than a little worried. Still, he resolves to occupy himself as best as he can until his worry is actually reasonable. Perhaps if he thinks of it as a little vacation, it won’t be so bad. He simply has to enjoy himself.

He doesn’t get the chance, of course. 

And really, he knows he fucked up but he also thinks that in a way he was entirely justified, because how was he supposed to know it would turn out like this? How was he supposed to know any of this would happen?

Yennefer is there, for some fucking reason. She sees him, because _of course_ she does. And, because she’s Yennefer of Vengerberg, and he’s the bard Jaskier, things escalate rather quickly. 

They always snip and snipe and snap at each other. It’s their dynamic. They trade biting insults and scathing remarks and backhanded compliments and all manners of barbed wit, and then part feeling frustrated and, in the strangest and vaguest way possible, somewhat satisfied. It’s just that this time, he is really not in the mood. He’s worried about Geralt, and he is pretty fucking sure that Yennefer knows what happened on the mountain after she’d left, and he sees something flash in her eyes and he just _knows_ that this is going to be one of their nastier fights before she even says anything.

When she says something about Geralt, it’s not like he isn’t expecting it. She says something about the witcher finally being rid of him, and some other nasty things that Jaskier isn’t even listening to because he just— 

He snaps.

Jaskier is a pixie of the Spring Court. Spring fae are generally considered the _good guys_ of the fae, not hot-headed like the Summer Court, not cruel like Winter and Fall. They’re Seelie, the benevolent sort, but they don’t tend to really muck things up for humans as much, more polite and curious than their quick-tempered Summer cousins. And pixies, well. 

They can be a tad… mercurial. Generally they’re just good for a bit of mischief. They aren’t industrious, like brownies — Jaskier certainly couldn’t see himself as a domestic spirit, content to use his magic for household chores in exchange for a little milk and honey — but that doesn’t make them lazy or useless. It just gives them a little more time and energy for mischief.

Pixies are mischief incarnate, prone to playing tricks and pranks on people. That’s the nature of Jaskier’s magic (well, half of it, at least). If someone does him a kindness, he uses his magic to reward them. It’s never straightforward in the slightest, and usually there’s a bit of trouble before they come to the _reward_ part, but he thinks a little fun is just part of the prize. When people wrong him, his tricks take on a more punishing nature, such as when he’d cursed Geralt to only be able to speak in poetic verse until he apologised to him. 

One thing to note is that whenever Jaskier punishes or rewards someone — when he plays his pixie tricks — the outcome is thematically linked to whatever they’ve done to deserve it. Back to his most recent example, Geralt used his words to scorn his poet, so the punishment fit the crime. 

This is all a very roundabout way of saying that Jaskier has fucked up. Because, see, he’s already on edge, and he’s just so fucking _tired_ of Yennefer always going for the throat, always going for the things she thinks will hurt the most, what she perceives as his biggest insecurities and vulnerabilities. So his trick, on the surface level, is simple: Yennefer will be faced with _her_ insecurities and _her_ most vulnerable self. That’s it, that’s as specific as his tricks get. He has the intent, and the magic does what it must to fit.

There’s a brief moment of quiet between them, and then Yennefer is gone.

For a split second, Jaskier is worried that there’s nothing she’s insecure about, nothing that makes her vulnerable, and he’s accidentally magicked her out of existence. Is that a thing? Can he do that? A moment later, though, when the fuzzy layer of fae magic fades from everything, he sees that someone is standing where Yennefer just was.

It could be Yennefer. She’s wearing the same dress, though it doesn’t fit her anymore, and she has the same eyes. She’s also, well, she doesn’t look like the Yennefer he knows at all. Her spine is twisted, her face no longer perfectly symmetrical, her hair cut as if with a knife than proper scissors. The most jarring difference, though? The way she holds herself, the uncertainty in her eyes. She may be wearing Yennefer’s dress but there’s hardly a trace of Yennefer in her that he can see. 

“Who are you?” they both say at the same time. They stare at each other for a long, tense moment before Jaskier decides that he should at least introduce himself, try to figure out exactly how badly he’s fucked up.

“Jaskier,” he says with a winning smile. “A humble bard, traveling the continent. And to whom do I have the pleasure of introducing myself?” 

She purses her lips, like he’s offended her somehow. “You don’t need to make fun of me,” she says. 

“Milady, I assure you, that’s the farthest from my intention,” he insists. 

Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, she says, “I’m not stupid.”

“And I would never imply that you were,” he says agreeably. “I simply wanted to know your name.”

She hesitates, and then says, “Yennefer.” 

Fuck.

“A pleasure, Lady Yennefer,” he says, desperately burying his own panic for the moment. Okay, think, Jaskier. Yennefer is this child now — she’s probably a teenager, so, yeah, a _child_. She doesn’t recognise him, so she is a child both physically _and_ mentally.

The good news is that none of his tricks are permanent. They all have an ending, a sort of off button. The bad news is that he doesn’t know what that _is_. He has less than a month to figure out how to get Yennefer back to normal, before Geralt and his Child Surprise come and find out that Jaskier is an absolute _idiot_. It’s fine. He can handle this. He’ll think of something.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s not easy at first, but then, he didn’t expect it to be. Yennefer is suspicious of him, because from her perspective, she’s suddenly in a strange place with a strange man who’s insisting on taking care of her. 

“I was the first person to find you. I feel responsible for your wellbeing,” is his excuse. And technically it’s the truth. He was the first person to find Yennefer like this, though it was after his magic made her into a child. And he does feel responsible for her wellbeing, but only because this is entirely his fault. Well, it’s her fault a little! But he will admit that he fucked up, here. 

He only tells her the truth, because it’s what his kind does. He also misleads her expertly, because, again, it’s what his kind does. It’s not that the fae are physically incapable of outright lying, like the legends say. If that were the case, he’d never be able to write songs, because stories and lies are just things that one tries to make others believe even though they never happened. It’s more that it feels slimy, wrong in a way he can’t really describe. There’s also a taboo against it for sure — it’s considered a sign of low intelligence, something only done by those who aren’t sophisticated enough to rely on a clever manipulation of the truth. 

The point is that he does not lie to her once. He just doesn’t tell her everything, and isn’t very straightforward. How could he, though? She wouldn’t believe him if he said _You’re actually older than me and very powerful, but I made you into a child on accident because pixies are petty shits but don’t worry, it’ll wear off eventually,_ and he doesn’t want to complicate things for himself any further by trying to make her believe it anyway. 

Instead, he spends all of his time and energy trying to earn her trust. He treats her kindly, he tells her about himself, he tries to get to know her. Honestly, he finds that it’s far easier than he thought it would be, as long as he looks at this little girl as her own person and not as the Yennefer of Vengerberg that he knows. Technically, she’s never said or done any of the nasty things that his Yennefer has. 

He encourages her at any opportunity he can, and she opens up like a flower in the spring. He learns about her childhood in the worst way, the same way he learns about Geralt from time to time: occasionally, and seemingly out of nowhere, she’ll say the most depressing shit, made worse by the matter-of-fact way she says it. She acts like living in a pigpen was just her lot in life, like being beaten by anyone who feels like letting off some steam is a normal thing that just happens to her sometimes. She hates the way she was treated, but she’s resigned to it, like it’s simply the way things are. He hates it.

And then, to make matters worse, he finds out _why_ she feels that way. 

Honestly, he’s never been that careful with his magic. He doesn’t have it in the way she does (Did? Will?), doesn’t have the volume or focus. He can play his tricks, and he can make flowers grow. As a child, he’d once accidentally made a nanny dance herself to exhaustion when she’d stepped into his first fairy ring. They were buttercups. His father had scolded him for his carelessness, and for her trouble the little fae child had given his nanny new slippers that, when worn, would keep her feet from ever aching. It was a good trade-off, he thinks. 

The point is that he’s never been careful with his flowers, and even having spent all this time in the company of a witcher, he hasn’t really changed much in that regard. One day, he and Yennefer are taking a stroll, and she says something that makes him laugh, and in response a ring of daisies begins to grow at his feet. When he notices them, he plucks a few (for safety’s sake; it would be incredibly irresponsible to leave an intact fairy ring for anyone to just come across, for any fairy to claim or any human to get stuck in). Grinning at the girl, he says, “Would you like to stop and make flower crowns?”

She frowns at him in that way that he’s learned means she’s trying to find the catch. Much like his witcher, she seems to have a hard time accepting that good things can just happen to her without something terrible lurking just around the corner. He waits patiently, until she admits that she doesn’t know how. Well, he tells her, that can be easily fixed, and he’d be more than glad to teach her. 

Maybe halfway through, they run out of flowers, and Yennefer is disappointed. “Don’t worry,” he says mildly, “I can just grow more.”

The girl starts to argue that it will take far too long when, before her very eyes, more daisies begin to grow, and Jaskier’s only reaction is to pluck a few more to finish the crown he’s making.

“How did you do that?” she asks, and for some reason it sounds like an accusation. “Are you a sorcerer? Has this all been a-a test?” 

He laughs, though not unkindly, not _at_ her. "I'm a changeling, little dove," he says with a soft smile. 

"But you aren't ugly," she answers dubiously. 

He frowns. "Well, that's kind of you to say," he says, "but changelings aren't ugly or ill-behaved by nature — no more than human children, anyway. No offense, dear, but your kind can be absolutely _savage_ little creatures."

She’s quiet, and he’s worried for a moment that he’s offended her. What he’s not expecting is for her to say, sounding so quiet and tired and resigned, “So you’re going to take me, then?” 

“What?” Now _he’s_ a little offended. Like witchers, his people have a bad (and not entirely well-earned) reputation for _stealing children_. It hurts, a little bit, that she believes them. He knows it’s ridiculous to be hurt by something a human child says, but when has he ever avoided something just because it’s ridiculous?

“That’s why she bought me,” she says, as though she’s solved a particularly difficult riddle. “So she could send me back.”

Jaskier shakes his head. “Yennefer, dear heart, you aren’t making any sense. Someone _bought_ you?”

“For four marks,” she spits, and he can _feel_ her anger, her _hurt_ , swirling around her with the raw Chaos of an untrained sorceress-to-be. 

Honestly? He can’t say he isn’t fucking livid as well. 

The girl glares at the ground. "People always said I was a changeling, that I replaced a good, normal, human child. That's why they..." 

Frankly, he cannot bear to hear whatever is going to come next. And maybe it's not the best decision, but when can he ever say he makes those? With all the gentleness and kindness he has in his body, he wraps her in a hug — tight, but not crushing, and firm, but loose in a way that she could move away easily if she wanted to. She's tense for a moment before, hesitantly, as if she doesn't quite trust it, she hugs him back. It makes sense now, why she thought— for fuck’s sake, this is _worse_ than thinking he has a genetic predisposition towards kidnapping. 

She thinks a strange woman bought her from her family to return her to the fae. She thinks _she_ is a changeling. She wasn’t _wanted_. His heart breaks for her.

"Darling, do you know _why_ the fae leave their own children in the place of human babes?" he asks. He doesn't let go, so he feels more than sees when she shakes her head 'no'. 

It's a question he'd constantly asked himself, when he was old enough to ask it. As soon as he was able, he ventured out and, by pure instinct alone, managed to find a few fae of his Court. (He hadn't even known he _had_ a Court, not really, but he could tell somehow that these were a friendly sort.) They'd been kind enough to welcome him, to not try to trick him, and he'd spent a year or two in their realm just learning about himself, about his people, about what he is and what he can do. He'd never felt such a deep sense of _belonging_ before. Of course, it couldn't last; he'd never been one to stay in one place for too long, after all. There were no hard feelings when he left, and he'd been invited back. When he'd made it back to the other side, so to speak, he found out that just a week had passed, and he was in a different place than he'd crossed over the first time. 

"Sometimes, young ones die before their time," he says. "Sometimes they grow ill, or there's an accident. Very, very rarely, there are fae nearby with a child of their own, who are willing to raise the human child in their own world to save its life, leaving their own in its place. If a changeling child is mistreated, the exchange is void, because to raise one of us is considered a gift, and we don't take that sort of ungratefulness lightly."

She pulls out of the long hug, and he gives her a moment to process what he's said. They finish making their flower crowns in silence — well, Jaskier hums, and occasionally compliments or corrects her, but other than that there is no conversation between them.

The next day, the girl is acting subdued, even for her. When he asks what’s wrong, she tells him — in that roundabout sort of way that teenage girls talk about the mess of their feelings — that she doesn’t think it’s fair that she is the way she is, that she hasn’t _done_ anything, that she wishes she _was_ a changeling so that there would be a _reason_ for all of it. She feels like a ship lost at sea, like she doesn’t know who she is. 

"Yennefer, sweetling, you're nowhere near the end of your journey yet. You're barely getting started. Give yourself time to bloom," he says softly. 

It isn't until later that night that he gets an idea — he knows that Yennefer likes his music. At least, this younger version of her does. Where the Yennefer he's used to has had centuries, probably, to perfect her resting bitch face, this younger (vulnerable, he thinks with no small amount of guilt) Yennefer hasn't even begun to create her mask of _cold-and-aloof_. She pays him a particularly rapt attention, with a sort of intense yearning for the things he sings about to be real, for life to be as beautiful as the stories. 

What's important is the way he can use this. 

And, Gods, he has delicate, personal information about Yennefer that he's using for personal gain, but his _personal gain_ is _making her feel better about herself_. He never thought he'd see the fucking day. 

Look, if he's being perfectly honest, this is also partly for him. He uses poetry to process his feelings, that's just who he is. He's worried about Geralt and now he's worried about _Yennefer_ of all people. He also is just, ugh, he's absolutely incensed by how poorly little Yen thinks of herself, because it's so _jarring_ , knowing the sorceress she became (will become?), how _different_ she is from that version of herself.

See, this is exactly why he avoids using his magic when he can. It's not a cut-and-dry, say some words and get your desired effect kind of thing. It's not straightforward at all. He has a feeling, he plays a trick, and whatever happens, happens. His kind don't tend to focus on the consequences unless it directly pertains to them, and he's been _trying_ to be better about it, to view things like the humans do, but he _isn't_ human and sometimes he just _can't_. 

The damnable creatures _raised_ him, and he _still_ can't properly be one of them, for Melitele's sake. 

Okay, he needs to calm down. See, this is why he uses poetry before he gets to this point. It's a fantastic outlet. With that in mind, he sets to writing his song for Yennefer (and himself).


	3. Chapter 3

_Everyone blooms in their own time  
Some far ahead, some far behind  
So wherever you are, don't worry, you're gonna be fine, fine, fine  
'Cause everyone blooms in their own time_

That's all he wants Yennefer to understand. Of course, it's going to be a song, so he makes it the chorus. Sometimes there's nothing better than a little repetition to really drive the point home. He needs Yennefer to know that whatever she is now, it's nothing compared to what she can and will be. 

And he's not talking about her looks, or her power. He's talking about her confidence, her self-esteem, her ego. He'd thought her insufferable, but never realised how much of it was a mask to hide this little girl underneath her skin. He'd never realised that there was a _before_ , that Yennefer had ever been anything but _perfect_ and _self-assured_. He didn't know she'd been through _so much_. 

_Sometimes we talk about what it might take  
Skills to wrap the gift and my hands cut the cake  
Sometimes we talk about what it might take  
Skills to pay the bills and my mouth get a taste  
I have to concentrate, keep it warm  
Taking up space and blocking doors_

The first draft, like all first drafts, will be for his eyes only. When he performs the final piece for Yennefer he’s going to cut the parts that aren’t _for_ her, but for now, he just needs to let this shit out. 

And, really, when _isn’t_ Geralt of Rivia on his mind? What songs has he written lately that weren’t at least partly inspired by the White Wolf? This isn’t any different. They’ve talked before, he and Geralt, about what it would take for the witcher to settle down, retire. The gift is a metaphor for that distant possibility. Once, Geralt had asked _what good is a witcher who doesn’t hunt monsters? What else could I do? I’m sure you can’t see me as a farmer._ And Jaskier had only joked back that maybe Geralt should be a baker, because his skills could be used to cut cakes if nothing else. 

They both have skills that earn them coin, and from a monetary standpoint, he’s sure that the witcher could retire now if he wanted to play house-husband to his bard. Neither of them wants that, though, not really. Geralt doesn’t want to be _kept_ , he wants to be _useful_. And Jaskier knows where he’s coming from. Even if he _wasn’t_ fae, an arrangement like that would make Geralt feel like he _owes_ Jaskier. It’s dangerous to owe the fae _anything_ , and being kept by one is no better, really, than being their pet. Geralt is not a pet, and Jaskier does not want him to be. They were meant to go to the coast together for just a _taste_ of relaxation, of what life could be if Geralt wasn’t constantly flinging himself at danger. It just hadn’t worked out that way, clearly. 

Geralt takes care of him, and Jaskier tries to take care of him in turn. Theirs is an equitable relationship, thank you very much, even if Geralt doesn’t admit it most of the time. Perhaps he hadn’t known before exactly how much Jaskier does for him, but he’s hoping that they’ll be able to have a conversation about that later. After all, how many times has Jaskier made something grow because Geralt needed that one specific flower for his potions? And how many times have those potions saved his life? 

The witcher keeps them warm, with his campfires and his preparedness and his sharing body heat, but he also offers an intimidating presence. Just the space he takes, the way he stands in doorways, it’s all _very_ scary to the wrong sort. He makes Jaskier feel _safe_ , and Jaskier only hopes that his witcher is safe right now.

His thoughts, of course, never stay in one place for too long, and at this point drift back to the _Yennefer situation_.

_Sometimes we talk, it's a total mistake  
Just a picture of us looks so good it feels fake  
Just a picture of us looks so good it feels fake_

It’s never a good thing when he and Yennefer are in the same place at the same time. They have not had one conversation that wasn’t a complete and utter mistake. Honestly, they’ve never had an actual _conversation_ at all — they just snark and throw insults back and forth. It’s difficult for him to reconcile the Yennefer situation, because in his head there are two pictures. Both are of Yennefer and himself, but there’s the Yennefer he’s used to, and the one who is currently in his care. 

And honestly? The picture of this Yennefer is a lovely one. She’s a wonderful young woman, and he thinks that if he had met _this_ version of her first, they’d be friends (yes, even after she turned into sexy-scary-mean Yennefer). They get along well and while she’s still a little suspicious of him, she doesn’t lash out with it. He legitimately wants what’s best for her, wants to keep her safe. He wishes that she were a changeling, too, but not for the same reasons as her. No, if she were a changeling, she’d be with the fae now, and they would take care of her the way that she deserved. This Yennefer is too good to be true. He knows it’s not real, that she’s going to go back to normal at some point and probably strangle him with his lute strings for making this mess in the first place. 

He feels terrible about it, though. He doesn’t want this version of her to be feeling vulnerable and hurt, but this is the version of her that’s feeling those things the most, and if it wasn’t for this Yennefer he wouldn’t feel this way at all. He and Youngefer (no, that doesn’t work, but he’s sure it can be reworked somehow. It has potential — puntential?) get along, they like each other. He’s even starting to have a positive view of the older, ruder Yennefer, just because of the understanding he’s getting from the experience. There’s a selfish part of him that wants to _keep_ this Yennefer, even though he knows that he can’t, and he shouldn’t even if he could. 

_Well, I heard that you want all of me  
And I heard that you'd do anything  
You can take what's left of me  
Fill a garbage bag before you leave_

That’s not so much about the people he cares about ( _why_ does Yennefer make that list now?) as it is directed towards the people who mistreat them. There are so many people that want Geralt and Yennefer for what they can _do_ , for a _function_ they possess, only to toss them aside when they’re no longer useful. Humans have no integrity, in his humble opinion — their memories are so short, they’ll be praising Geralt one day and running him off the next. They can only stand to be in the company of _freaks_ for as long as the usefulness outweighs the discomfort.

He’s seen it happen time and time again with Geralt, and even himself to a lesser extent. While at first, he thought that Yennefer just liked stealing houses, that she was gripped by the same wanderlust and thirst for adventure as him, he’s starting to realise that it was almost unbearably naive of him. It isn't that Yennefer _wants_ to move from place to place, ensorcelling men and stealing their houses. It’s that she _has_ to. Well, the first part, anyway; he’s sure she could do just fine without all the house-stealing and man-ensorcelling, but with his recent magical fuckup he really doesn’t have room to talk about _improper use of magic_ , does he?

People always want those like them for their power, for what they can provide, but it’s also the reason they’re reviled and shunned. They beg for mercy, compassion, yet they offer none. They take and take until all that’s left are scraps, like potato peelings that have yet to be bagged up and tossed into the river. 

_I have to meditate, staying strong  
Smoke's filling up space, no fire alarm  
Sometimes we talk, it's a total mistake  
Just the memories of us feel so real, must be fake  
Echoed memories of us feel so real, must be fake_

People have certain associations that their minds make without any regards to their feelings on the matter, he thinks. It’s not his fault that when he thinks of _strength_ and _responsibility_ he thinks of Geralt. It’s not his fault, really! He’s not a child, but… well, there’s a reason, he supposes, that pixies are considered _childlike_. He’s not keen on the whole _responsibility_ thing, never really was. Geralt protects him, saves him from his own impulses and impulsiveness, keeps him _safe_. And he’d have to be blind not to notice how strong the man is, but he isn’t just _physically_ strong. The poor bastard carries so much weight on his shoulders, and most of it isn’t the physical weight of his witchering gear. He carries every death with him, bears nearly a century of poor treatment silently; he’s been through so _much_ and he just keeps _going_. 

Right now, Jaskier sort of feels a lot like Geralt. He knows that it’s silly, but it’s true. He’s Geralt-ing young Yennefer, keeping her safe, being _strong_ for her even though he feels like he’s falling apart the longer he goes without hearing anything from Geralt and without any improvement in the Yennefer _situation_. When it gets too difficult he stops and thinks _what would Geralt be doing right now?_ and when he gets past the obvious answers — _brooding, grumbling, taking care of his horse_ — he usually comes to a proper plan of action.

This is awful. It feels like he’s on fire, like everything is burning down around him, but he’s too tired to be properly alarmed by it. He’s never had to plan his actions like this, be so careful. Life was so much easier when he only had to worry about himself. Nothing can really hurt him but pure iron, whereas _everything_ could hurt little Yennefer. Is this how Geralt felt when he thought Jaskier was human? Fuck, he needs to buy his witcher something nice. 

Regardless, he feels like he’s taking on a role of guardian or protector for Yennefer. And he enjoys her company, really! It’s not something he’s ever thought he’d feel, think, or say, but things and people change, especially where fae magic is involved. It’s just that, well, sometimes when they talk it feels like a total mistake; not because it’s the same as it was, but because it _isn’t_. 

The more time passes, the more hopeless this whole mess feels. It feels like Yennefer will never be back to normal, Geralt will never come, and Jaskier is suffocating under the stagnation. Every memory he has of Yennefer now is so real that he can’t tell if it’s fake or not. The more he replays any memory the more it feels like an echo of itself until it becomes just something he can’t believe.

He sighs. This is… a lot. It’s a lot to deal with, a lot to ruminate on. And it’s late, and he’s simply hit his limit. He can edit tomorrow, perform the final version of his song for Yennefer that night. For now, he needs to try to get some rest.

Maybe when he wakes up, Geralt will be there. At this point, he doesn’t even care about being caught in his mistake. He just wants his Wolf to be safe and his sorceress to be okay.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW for a scene where a teenager kisses an adult they have a crush on. It's quick and nothing happens, but I don't want to not warn anyone just in case.

It's just past the end of the month, and he's trying not to panic, not only because he still hasn't seen hide nor hair of his witcher, but also because he hasn't fucking _fixed this_ yet. He knows better than to try to remove or change or tamper with any trick or blessing that's already in place, so he hasn't even considered that terrible course of action. He's trying not to use his magic for this situation _at all_ , just in case, so he hasn't even tried to cheat a little bit to find out what they need to do, or if they just have to wait it out. 

He’s done enough fucking waiting, thank you. 

His song took a little longer than he expected; they always do, it seems. Still, every extra minute was worth it when he finally performed the finished product. 

Often, when Jaskier debuts his newest songs and ballads, he’s in front of a large audience — in a packed tavern, on a stage, in some court or palace, anywhere that a lot of people will be able to hear it and spread it and give him the coin and praise that he’s earned. He’s performed for kings and queens, nobles, newlyweds, professors, ambassadors, fishermen — all sorts of folks.

And yet.

And yet, he’s never had an audience so important, so appreciative. He’s never been rewarded so richly, or felt quite as accomplished. The high of performing has never felt as sweet, the enraptured gaze of a maiden never as lovely, as in this moment.

He performs for an audience of one, this time, in a field of wildflowers on a cloudless day. She offers no coin, no fawning praise. Her attention is rapt, eyes wide, lips parted just slightly. 

The fae can compel mortals to sing and dance and play their instruments until they die of exhaustion. Those unfortunate enough to be ensnared by his kind cannot stop, do not know their exhaustion until it finally takes them into oblivion. All they feel is the compulsion to perform, to entertain, to please, to _keep going_. Jaskier is not in the habit of compelling mortals, nor has he ever been compelled; and yet, in this moment, he thinks he understands what it feels like. His song is short, yet lasts a lifetime.

_Everyone blooms in their own time (Late Bloomer)  
Some far ahead, some far behind  
So wherever you are, don't worry, you're gonna be fine, fine, fine  
Everyone blooms in their own time_

_Their own time  
Their own time_

_Both of us could give up  
Give up and float backwards  
Attitude and outlook  
Realize that it matters  
And I know that no news  
No news is good news  
But that always felt backwards  
And I still haven't heard from you_

_Attitude and outlook  
Realize that it matters  
Both of us could give up  
Give up and float backwards  
Yeah I know that no news  
No news is good news  
But that always felt backwards  
And I still haven't heard from you_

_My attitude, my outlook  
I realize now it matters  
My attitude, my outlook  
I realize now it matters  
Yeah I know that no news  
No news is good news  
I realize now it matters  
And I still haven't heard from you_

_Everyone blooms in their own time  
Some far ahead, some far behind  
So wherever you are, don't worry, you're gonna be fine, fine, fine  
Gonna be fine, fine, fine  
Gonna be fine, fine, fine  
'Cause everyone blooms in their own time_

In a field of flowers, a pixie implores a young girl, nearly a woman, to give herself time. He asks her to love herself, to look at herself the way he does. They could give up, and yet,

And yet,

_And yet,_

They won’t. They have so much further to go. The way things are _now_ is not the way things will be _later_. 

A pixie sings to a young woman in a field of flowers, on a sunny day, and under that sun he watches a single flower bloom. It is the most beautiful flower of all; it just doesn’t know it yet. 

He sees it happen, sees her petals opening to the light of the sun, her leaves stretching towards it. It takes a moment, just one too many, to realise that _he_ is the sun. And by time he realises it, he’s being kissed — a chaste press of closed lips to his own — and he is startled. More than anything, he is startled by what comes next.

He blinks, and Yennefer is gone. No, Yennefer is _back_.

**

Everything comes rushing back to her at once, like she’s caught in a river whose dam has just broken. 

Yennefer has just spent the last _month_ trapped in her worst fucking nightmare: her own body, back then. Before it had been fixed. 

Only… it wasn’t a nightmare, was it? Not really. Jaskier was there. And, fuck, she hates that _he_ of all people is the one who made it better. That he was kind, understanding, friendly; that he took care of her, never made her feel bad. That he showed her a love she’d never known back then — fuck, maybe she’d never known it at all. 

That he made her think she was _worth_ being loved.

Of course, now that she’s an adult again, now that she’s _herself_ again, she remembers everything that happened, and it is fucking _mortifying_. Ignoring all the… messy… _feelings_ shit, she can focus on the important information: Jaskier is a fucking fae. 

A lot of things make sense about him now. She wants to be irritated, she wants to be _furious_ that he put her through all of this, but… she can’t, for several reasons. Firstly, she knows that fae magic is hardly an exact science. It isn’t so much that they lack discipline, because their society and culture are rigid in ways humans can neither expect nor truly fathom. Every word, every movement, everything they do must be calculated, to the point that it becomes nearly effortless. 

Comparing the fae to humans is a fool’s endeavour. It’s like comparing a potato to a mouse. And _fae_ is such a broad term, it’s like saying _mammals_. Comparing a pixie to a kelpie, for example, would be like comparing a human to a whale. They’re only the same by a technicality, only comparable on a broad level. 

The second reason is that he helped her. She knows the fae operate on a different level, morally. To them, cursing her and just leaving her to her own devices wouldn’t be questionable in the slightest. And yet, he’d stayed with her, cared for her. For some reason he’d even been kind the entire time. He never lost his patience or his temper, even when she’d been sure he would, when anyone else would have. He took responsibility for his fuckup, but then he took it further. Even she would have only done the bare minimum, if anything at all. He kept her safe, but he also helped her feel… something. 

A lot of things, maybe. 

Yennefer, _as a teenager_ , had somehow developed a… a _crush_ on, fuck, on _Jaskier_ of all people. 

And it makes perfect sense. 

In retrospect, now that the… curse? Spell? Trick? Now that the _fae magic_ has broken, she can take a guess at what happened. Jaskier wanted to make her feel vulnerable and insecure. He didn’t know what a _vulnerable and insecure_ Yennefer entails. The thing with fae magic, with their tricks and curses and spells and blessings, is that there’s always a trick to them. Yennefer simply had to become less vulnerable and insecure to become herself again. When she had the confidence to… to kiss him, ugh, she _kissed him_ — but when she had that confidence, it was enough to break the magic’s hold on her.

“Well,” she says briskly, taking a fluid step backwards, widening the space between them, “I suppose there’s something to the old tales after all.”

“Uh?” he answers, looking at her with wide-eyed confusion. 

She shrugs and says, “All I had to do was kiss a toad to turn into a beautiful sorceress.” 

And somehow, Jaskier laughs, breathless and relieved. “Thank Melitele, you’re back!” he says, pulling her into a tight hug. 

They both falter for a moment, wrong-footed, before he lets go. “Ah, sorry,” he says.

She shrugs again. “Let’s just never talk about this again.”

“Fantastic idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In ten days, I'll have been uploading daily for four months. And that's exciting for me, but also, it's starting to be a bit much. Once I hit the four month mark, I'm thinking of backing off to maybe uploading every other day. I love doing this, but I have my own book I need to put more time into. (Incidentally, it also involves the fae and a very oblivious man.)
> 
> I love you guys, I love the feedback, I love doing this. I just think I need a bit of a breather.


End file.
